


How To Get To Heaven (Without Losing A Piece Of Me)

by InMediasRes



Series: String of Fate [7]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Drinking to Cope, Eliot Waugh Needs Therapy, Eliot is a mess, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everybody Lives, Isolation, M/M, Margo is supportive, Mike is a dick in this one, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), References to Addiction, References to Drugs, Talks of therapy, code word/phrase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InMediasRes/pseuds/InMediasRes
Summary: Eliot remembers Mike, his ex.Margo finally makes him see the light.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Past Mike McCormick/Eliot Waugh
Series: String of Fate [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076294
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	How To Get To Heaven (Without Losing A Piece Of Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, this one is... A ride. Nothing explicit, but a warning is in order - Eliot was in an abusive relationship with Mike. Not physically, it was all purely emotional and psychological, but abuse is abuse. If I missed a tag about this, please please let me know, this is important for this piece (and I'm sorry if I haven't tagged enough and have accidentally triggered you. Please tell me if I do).
> 
> Title taken from Heaven by Troye Sivan

* * *

_Eliot and Margo are actually in the library, studying for once. Despite all appearances, they do study every now and then (they both ignore the slightly-jealous comments of “geniuses” from their peers, because they actually do work hard to get the grades they have). Margo is complaining about her latest French essay, while Eliot is actually attempting to write his._

_“A bag of dicks sounds awful good right now.” She groans, giving Eliot her woe-is-me look, complete with a pout._

_But before Eliot can reply, a voice sounds behind him, making Eliot turn._

_“Copy that.”_

_And – well, the guy is cute. He’s blonde, a bit shorter than Eliot, but who isn’t? And that grin… Mm, yes, Studious Eliot has now left the room._

_“Woah,” Margo comments, slightly curious, slightly flirtatious._

_“She means… Hi.” Eliot translates, visibly checking the blonde out, unashamed._

_“Are you guys trying to translate French? Because I used it here. I mean, it was a couple of years ago, but…”_

_Before he can say any more, Eliot glances over the books and papers spread out over their desks, and his opened but completely blank Word document page. “Yeah… Mhmm. Cry for help.”_

_And Cute Blonde does a little half-bow, an “Answered,” leaving his lips that are already curling into a smile. He walks around their table to take the seat directly opposite Eliot, and Eliot is vaguely aware that Cute Blonde hasn’t looked at Margo once – no, he has given Eliot his full and undivided attention, which made slow, hot pleasure curl in his stomach._

_Cute Blonde stretches out his hand for Eliot to shake. “Mike.”_

_Eliot leans forward to shake it, their hands lingering in the other’s, unwilling to let go. “Eliot.”_

* * *

Margo waits a week before she corners Eliot to make him talk.

An entire week of watching him get black out drunk, dancing with other guys, flirting with them… Margo was just thankful that Eliot hadn’t actually _slept_ with anyone. She knew he would regret that the most, if he ever went down that road.

But he hadn’t.

Even while having broken up with Quentin, Eliot never crossed that line, and that – that was saying a lot, really. She remembered the days in their first year; Eliot just coming off his drugs, drunk off his ass to take his mind off his severe withdrawals, taking any and every guy to bed… It had been _bad_. And she doesn’t admit this easily, but he had _scared_ her, being like that. Yes, at this point, they had only known each other a few months, but in that time, Margo had known she had met someone special. She didn’t even have the words to describe what they had – ‘platonic soulmates’ didn’t even compare, though that was the term they used to anyone who bothered to ask. Most didn’t. The point was, Margo had seen Eliot at his low, and he with her, but she had also seen him at his _worst_ ; believe it or not, but Eliot Waugh coming back from rehab had not been the worst of what they had gone through together.

And so here she was, essentially keeping Eliot prisoner in her room, as she forced him to finally _talk_. Because she had had enough of seeing him like this, on this downward spiral of drinking and _guysguysguys_. She never thought she’d ever say this, but – She missed the Eliot that was in love. Missed him a whole lot, if she was honest.

“El, you can’t keep going on like this.”

“Why not?” He was giving her that sulky look, making her sigh. _Such a child_.

She glares at him as he perches on the end of her bed, which makes him soften his demeanour a bit. _Better_. “You have a showcase in a few _weeks_ , El. Do you want to be kicked out? Is that it?”

Eliot glances to the side before his eyes flicker back up to Margo, who is leaning against her door. “What if I do?”

Margo crosses her arms, giving him her best _Are you fucking kidding me right now_ look. Eliot deflates, his breath coming out in one _whoosh_ before he groans and falls onto his back, his hands coming up to rub at his eyes, pressing into them hard. “What do you want me to say, Margo? Hell, what do you want me to _do_?”

Confident that he was not going to try and run, Margo goes to lay beside him. “How about you go find Quentin, and grovel at his feet and _explain_ things to him? You know, do the whole communication thing.”

“You know I can’t. Not that. _He doesn’t know_.”

“Exactly. _He doesn’t know_. So go tell him.”

“I _can’t_.”

Margo pauses at the anguished tone in Eliot’s voice, and she knows. She knows he’s about ready to break apart again. Can feel him slightly trembling if she laid still long enough. She lets out a sigh, a soft exhalation of breath really, before she reaches her hand out across her duvet, searching for Eliot’s. When she finds it, she holds on, giving him a squeeze for comfort. _It’s okay, I’m here_ , she’s saying. There’s a few moments of stillness before Eliot squeezes back. _I know. Thank you._

* * *

_Eliot is anxious and maybe slightly panicking about this date he’s supposed to have with Mike. He’s called on Bambi for help to dress him, but she’s running a bit late. It’s been a couple of days since he’s met Mike, but God, is he already falling. And it was scary, but it was also new and exciting. Is this what falling in love felt like? Maybe. Hopefully? It was at least something important, that much Eliot could tell. He was just happy that he gets to have this now – this complete and absolute freedom of being able to fall in love with who he wants, gets to hold hands and kiss that person in public without fear of retribution due to Not Being Straight._

_When Margo finally arrives, she predictably teases him for being such a mess and a sap, but what can he do? He can’t control his feelings. So he just smiles in good humour, and teases her right back as they get him ready for his date. God, he can’t wait until she falls in love. She won’t be laughing then._

_It was nice though. If anyone knew how to make Eliot relax, it was Margo. She understood him on a level no one ever has before. Hell, no one has ever tried before. And yet Margo had waltzed into his life and took her place there like she had been there all along. She belonged there. Eliot couldn’t even remember what his life had been like without his Bambi anymore, and he doesn’t even want to think about where he might be now if they hadn’t met (he imagines he probably would have been lying dead in a ditch somewhere due to his own vices). She understood him effortlessly, seamlessly, while no one else had even bothered to try. Eliot would eternally be grateful for the chance she took on him._

_And Eliot’s date with Mike went off without a hitch. Margo had scared off everyone else from The Cottage for him, because Eliot had chosen to cook dinner for them instead. Well, there had been a small bump in their date; Mike had expressed his worry over Eliot getting tired of him because they didn’t have the same interests, and that – That was just wrong. Eliot didn’t care if they had the same interests or not. What was important was that Mike was a nice guy, and that he cared about Eliot as a person. So Eliot had told him about his family, where he came from. That had been the most vulnerable he had ever been in front of another person who wasn’t Margo. And he had felt insecure, unbalanced about it, but Mike had accepted him just as he was._

_And they had kissed, and then had dinner, and yes, they may have ended up in bed together the same night, which may be a bit fast for some people, but. It had felt right._

_And Eliot was so in love._

* * *

“Eliot, I really think you should tell Quentin, you know. He doesn’t deserve not knowing why you broke up with him without you even telling him you’re breaking up with him.”

And Eliot knows – _he knows, okay_ – that Quentin deserves better than that. Better than him. When it came right down to it, that night in the face of Quentin’s love confession, Eliot couldn’t even break up with him properly. Because he couldn’t say the words back to Quentin, but he also couldn’t tell Quentin that he was breaking up with him. If he had said those words, it would have made everything final, in a way that he didn’t want them to be. So he had walked away instead, with the unspoken words heavy in the silent gulf between them.

Cowardice, thy name is Eliot Waugh.

He doesn’t answer Margo though, because really. What was he supposed to say to that? He knows, and she knows he knows, and it was all just a big mess. One of his own doing, but also one he wasn’t emotionally or mentally ready to untangle. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever really be ready to either.

“Okay, so. You fucked up. And yes, you fucked up _bad_. But El – he fucked you up. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“ _Margo_ –” He starts. A warning.

But she bowls right over him. “No. _No._ I will not let you run this time. Not from this. It’s about time you faced it, Eliot. It’s about _goddamn time_ you let yourself be happy – truly happy – and to forgive yourself for it. Because _it wasn’t your fault_. Okay?”

“Margo, you know that isn’t entirely true. You know part of it is my fault. If I had just been –”

“If you had just been what, Eliot? _What_?” Margo sits up to face him, all angry buzzing and frustrated eyes. “If you had just been a little less in love? Well, newsflash Eliot, everyone falls in love, and love makes you do crazy shit sometimes. Like overlook someone’s faults, even if they are large and glaring you right in the face.”

Eliot gulps and also sits up, but doesn’t let go of Margo’s hand. She hasn’t let go either. His eyes skitter to the side as he hunches a little. “He never overlooked mine.” His voice comes out small, smaller than he had intended.

“Yeah, well, he was an abusive ass, what’s new.”

Eliot flinches at that. ‘Abusive’. He hates that word. It was such an ugly word. He lowers his gaze to their hands, and he turns Margo’s over so he can draw patterns on the back of it, just for something to do. He felt raw, like someone had opened him up and scraped all his insides out.

“Margo, about me… I – I think something might really be broken.”

* * *

_“Eliot. What the fuck are you doing?”_

_Eliot startled, almost spilling his drink into his lap. He blinks out of the daydream he had been in, and his eyes focus on Mike standing over him._

_“Huh?”_

_Mike’s eyes cut pointedly to the glass in Eliot’s hand, and Eliot feels a curl of shame begin to claw its way up. The feeling was beginning to become familiar, and Eliot knows it shouldn’t be. There was nothing wrong with drinking sometimes, and especially if it was only one glass. Even still…_

_“Oh, uh. It’s a new flavour? I mixed it for you. Do you want to try? I think you might like it.”_

_Mike turns his nose up at the offered glass, an almost-sneer on his face as he sits on the chair opposite Eliot._

_“You know how I feel about that.” He says flatly._

_Eliot swallows, his hand retreating. “Right, yeah. I’ll – I’ll go pour it out then.”_

_Mike hums in reply, watching as Eliot unfolds himself from his seat and walks through to the kitchen. His shoulders are beginning to hunch with the weight of Mike’s gaze, and he ignores Margo’s voice in his head telling him that Mike is trying to change him, trying to make him forget about his own hobbies until he’s only a shell of himself. He ignores it because – because Mike loves him, and he loves Mike, and Mike doesn’t like it when he drinks so he doesn’t (even if it’s okay for Mike to have a drink every now and then). And usually he would also stay away from mixology too, because that felt too much like tempting fate, but he’d felt an itch and… Well. Mike makes him better; this is the longest time he’s been sober, who was he to complain about that?_

_(Even if he does miss getting to drink with Margo. Even then.)_

_Eliot loves Mike, so he should be willing to compromise. Right?_

* * *

“No shit Sherlock.”

Margo’s voice brings him out of his memories, and without looking up from their hands, Eliot just knows she was rolling her eyes at him, and that thought alone makes him smile. They sit in silence for a few moments longer, comfortable but no less tense. Eliot can feel that she has more to say, so he waits patiently (and really, he should get a fucking medal for that. Hell, he should get a trophy for even having this conversation with her in the first place).

Eventually, just like he knew she would, Margo sighs in preparation for what she’s going to say.

“El… I think it’s time you saw someone.” She says it haltingly, hesitantly. She _knows_ this is a touchy subject for him, knows that he always turns it down immediately, and not without a hint of anger whenever she’s brought it up before.

He opens his mouth to do exactly that, frown creeping onto his face, but she grips his drawing hand with the one he isn’t holding, making him pause his pattern drawing. “No, hear me out first. Please.” She pleads, looking at him in earnest.

And, well, he’s always had a weak spot for Bambi’s wide pleading eyes, hasn’t he?

“I just… El, I remember when I met you. You were a mess, and I kicked your ass into rehab. Remember that? Something told me, right then and there, that I had met someone special, and I felt compelled to help you. I couldn’t let you go on living like that, not when you had all this potential to be better.”

Eliot searches her eyes, puzzled, wondering what she’s getting at. Yes, he knows all of this – he felt grateful to her for that, and he’s always been sure to let her know. And he has been there for her, and her for him, throughout the rest of the time they have known each other.

“And you did get better, El,” she continues, eyes softening. “You got a whole lot better. You only got reasonably drunk, you learned your limits, you got rid of your old ‘contacts’. You started going to classes, doing all your work. Hell El, you worked your ass off to get to where you should have been all along coming out of Indiana. And through all of that, I stood by you. You couldn’t scare me away even when you tried, through all your tantrums and your lashing out when you were going through withdrawal. And that had been scary enough.”

Margo blinks hard, and with a start, El realises she’s holding back tears. He lays his free hand on top of hers, silent, comforting.

“But then you met him. _Mike_. And you were falling so fast that it was dizzying. And then you started changing. He started c _hanging_ you. El, he wouldn’t let you do anything you enjoyed; you weren’t even allowed one drink, weren’t even allowed to _make_ drinks, but he was allowed a glass or two? That was such _bullshit_ El, and you know it. He didn’t like it when you had to practise for classes or for your showcases, because you spent too much time ‘away from him’. What did he think you were doing? You attend _Brakebills_. Hell, he’s alumni, he _knows_ what it’s like, knows how much you’re supposed to be practising. And then he’d talk down to you, until you’d lost all that self-confidence you had built up, that you had worked so hard on after Indiana.”

Eliot’s eyes are wide as he stares at Margo. He had no idea… He never even thought this was how much Margo had been holding in, never even considered how much anger she had over… Over his situation. _Jesus_.

“And then…” Her voice, after having risen during her tirade, went gentle again. “He tried to stop you from hanging out with _me_. And El, that scared me. That scared me more than I care to admit, more than I’m _willing_ to admit. Because I knew, if you took that step, there was no getting you back. He had taken everything from you, everything that made you _you_. Everything that people admired about you, everything you enjoyed, everything that kept you going even when you wanted to relapse… _He was taking it all away_. And I knew, if you had cut me off, that was it. You’d be completely isolated. And what then? What would he have done then? He would’ve been free to do whatever he wanted with you, El. And you would have let him. Do you see that?”

Eliot swallows the lump in his throat, because she’s right. God, he hates it, but he knows she’s right. He had been losing himself, and he had felt powerless to stop it. Mike may have never done anything… physical, to him. But that may as well have been the next step. And then Eliot wouldn’t have been lying dead in a ditch somewhere due to drugs and drink, but he’d have been lying dead in a ditch due to having been physically beaten there. And… And Margo had been there the whole time, watching, powerless in her own way, and he _hates_ that he ever made her feel like that, however unintentional.

“Why –” He stops to clear his throat, feeling choked up. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

“Because you would never listen. You weren’t ready to hear it, about what he was actually doing to you. But you are now, aren’t you? You had to use your emergency word, and you hadn’t used that since – since that night. El, please. Just… Maybe consider it?”

Eliot swallows, once, then twice. The thought of going to see someone… He could feel his hands getting clammy just thinking about it, and he goes to pull his hand from Margo because _gross_ , but she keeps a tight grip on him. She is his anchor, doesn’t let him run away even when he wants to. She makes him face things head on, and always stands by his side as he does so. Margo makes him want to be better, she always has, and Quentin…

_God, Quentin_.

Quentin also made him want to be better, _pushed_ him to be better, but not in the way Mike had done… And he had thrown that away. Quentin, who had never complained to him about drinking, or being himself, or not spending enough time with him, who never tried to separate him from Margo. Quentin, who knew what he had done to Logan Kinnear, and could _still_ find the capacity to love him. Quentin, who just loved him unconditionally. And he had thrown it away. _Jesus, what had he done_?

He hates himself for hurting the two people most important to him.

* * *

_He had phoned Margo at four in the morning, vaguely surprised he still had her number in his contacts at this point – hadn’t Mike gone through his phone the other day? But squinting at his contacts list, Eliot realised… Yes, her number had been deleted, but – that was only physically. Eliot knew her number by heart, of course he did, and he had dialled it from muscle memory alone. He laughed at himself, high and reedy, on the verge of panic, as he pressed his phone to his ear and slumped onto the ground in the alley._

_Margo was not pleased when she picked up._

_“Eliot, what the hell? It’s four in the morning, we have classes. Or have you forgotten you’re actually a student again?”_

_Eliot winced, because – because he deserved that. He knows he had been pushing her away lately, and he knows it’s largely because of Mike._

_“B-Bambi, I – He wants me to stop spending time with you.”_

_Even in the silence, even over the phone, Eliot can feel her fury radiating through the screen._

_“Sorry, you might have a bad signal, I don’t think I heard you right. Did you just say Mike wants you to stop spending time with me?” Her voice comes out tight, controlled, but Eliot knows she’s absolutely livid._

_He doesn’t know how to reply, has never been on the other end of her wrath before._

_“Eliot Waugh, if you are going to cut your best friend out of your life, at least ovary up and tell it to my face instead of over the phone.”_

_“No! Margo, no!” He almost shouts, panicked, scared. “I could never. Cut you out, that is. I don’t want to. But he wants me to! And I don’t know what to do. Margo, I love him. I’m drunk, and it’s four in the morning, and I’m in an alley, and I can’t go back like this, I can’t.”_

_There’s a silence, so long that Eliot has to check his phone to make sure she hasn’t hung up on him, because he would deserve that too. But his phone says she’s still on the other end._

_“Okay. Okay,” she finally says quietly, soothing. “Are you able to get back to The Cottage? Where are you? Do you want me to meet you?”_

_“No, no – I’m just around the corner. I think… I think my feet carried me here without me realising.”_

_“Okay. Okay, El. I’ll be waiting.”_

_With that, she hangs up, and Eliot struggles to stand back up, needing to use the wall for support. He staggers the last couple of blocks back to The Cottage and God – when was the last time he had seen it? When was the last time he had slept in his own room instead of over at Mike’s?_

_And when Margo opens the door immediately after he knocks, like she had been waiting for him just inside like she had said she would be, a relief so strong swept through Eliot like a balm to his deepest hurts, his soul, and he had fallen into her arms and burst into sobs, repeating the phrase ‘I need mayonnaise’ over and over._

_And Margo knows he hates mayonnaise, knew he wasn’t really asking for it, and took it as what it really was – a cry for help._

_The next day, she helped him move back into The Cottage, and was there when he finally, finally broke up with Mike, had snapped back at him when Mike had tried to tear Eliot down one more time, and had still been there to get drunk with him in celebration and sorrow. She stayed with him the entire time, helping him pick up the pieces of his life before Mike and gluing them back together painstakingly. And they never talked about it again due to an unspoken decree made by Eliot._

_But ‘mayonnaise’ became their emergency code word, one Eliot wasn’t going to repeat for another couple of years._

* * *

Eliot lets out a shaky breath and scrubs a hand over his face, tiredly rubs at his eyes that feels suspiciously damp. God, how could he not even consider it, now that he knows Bambi’s side of the story? He’s such a fuck up, and had put her through all of that, made her watch from the side-lines. And wouldn’t it just be like when she kicked him into rehab? Yeah, if he looked at it that way… _Yeah_. He could do it.

Maybe.

“Okay, Bambi. Okay. I hear you. I’ll go see someone about – about all of this. For you.”

“No El, don’t do it for me. Do it for _you_. Because you _do_ deserve to be happy. And a therapist will help you see that. And then you can work on getting Q back, yeah? One step at a time.”

Eliot nods, knowing she’ll help him through this too as she has everything else, and a sliver of hope uncoils in his chest. He doesn’t dare let it grow, not yet, not until he deals with his shit, but. It’s there, warming him up from the inside.

Because he realises that Quentin isn’t Mike, and that – that was pretty fundamental.

Maybe he can go talk to someone, after all.

He’ll sure try.

**Author's Note:**

> I finally was able to post something at a more reasonable time instead of my usual 4am?? But Eliot needed a backstory for his actions and why he's scared to fall in love again, so I hope this answered some questions about that.
> 
> Please don't ever be afraid to reach out to me (either about this piece in particular, or just anything in general) on here or on tumblr: [inmediasres-1](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/inmediasres-1)
> 
> As ever, I love all your support and comments <3


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